


Home is Where the Heart Is

by jeannedarcprice, kadaransmuggler



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Found Family, Future Fic, Gen, Illustrated Fic, Newly Discovered Society, it's very wholesome, thats it, they find a new society of angara hidden by the scourge and everybody is family now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarcprice/pseuds/jeannedarcprice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadaransmuggler/pseuds/kadaransmuggler
Summary: Family is what you make it. And Jaal thinks there's always room for more.





	Home is Where the Heart Is

 

It begins with the crashing of the ship. Jaal isn't sure what exactly happened, only that one moment he was in his bunk nodding off, with hours before they were due to make landfall on Eos. The next Kallo's frantic yelling crackled over the comms, startling him awake, and enough power was diverted away from the inertia dampeners to keep the _Tempest_ in the air long enough for him to steer them into a clearing. The ship rocks violently enough that Jaal is tipped out of his bunk, sprawling ungracefully to the floor as various belongings clatter to the ground from the shelves.

 

He never figures out what went wrong with the ship. He stayed put through the initial panic, mostly because he knew there was little he could do and that if it were severe enough that he were needed someone would come get him. He carefully picks each object off the floor and puts it back in it's approximate place on the shelves. He was careful and thorough, ducking down to check under everything in the room, and when he was finally certain that he'd replaced everything relatively well, he stood up and dusted himself off and made his way to the bridge.

 

Sara Ryder was standing on the bridge, arms crossed over her chest. She'd taken over while her brother took his paternity leave for the first few months of the twins life (Jaal himself was a little disappointed that the Pathfinder wasn't bringing the twins on the ship- he'd only met them a few times but he'd immediately decided that the tiny and soft humans had stolen his heart). Gil was also on paternity leave, considering the twins were also his, which Jaal supposed might be cause for worry since he had been there from the day the ship first launched, but Sara herself was a damn good mechanic and she didn't look too worried as Jaal approached. She turned to look at him with a warm smile.

 

“Look at the trees, Jaal,” she says, sounding wistfully awestruck. He looks, but he doesn't see anything truly spectacular about them. They're just trees. Tall and imposing, certainly, but just trees. They're beautiful in the same way that he thinks all trees are, but overall he can't pinpoint anything special about them.

 

“I....see them,” he responds, stepping forward to lean against the console. Sara bumps up against him as she shifts closer and it brings a small, fond smile to his face. Once, it might have annoyed him how little care the human woman seemed to have when it came to respecting everyone else's personal space, but he'd spent enough time in the company of the Ryder twins to know she was just excited. And there was something endearing about seeing Sara Ryder, who was partially responsible for the defeat of the Archon, excited about trees.

 

“They're pine trees. We had them on Earth! There was this pine forest out in Idaho that we went to a few times- it's one of my favorite places in the universe. It's like a little piece of home! Oh, and there's something for you to get excited about too. I was out here talking to Kallo when we crashed- it's nothing major, repairs will take less than an hour and most of that is just letting the engines cool first, it was remnants of the Scourge that made us crash- and when we were flying the forest....I think I saw ruins, Jaal. Angaran ruins. I thought maybe you'd want to go check them out? I'm gonna busy back here at the ship and I'm roping Liam and Cora and Vetra into helping me. But the planet seems safe enough, if you want to go,” she says, turning her warm gaze to look up at him, almost as if she were seeking approval.

 

Jaal had thought for the longest time that Sara Ryder was flirting with him. He'd witnessed her brother flirt, after all, with Gil. It seemed like the same sort of thing. But then he'd worked up the courage to ask Scott and Scott had told him that Sara was just like that with everyone. He had been relieved, mostly. Sara was charming in her exuberance but the way she darted from idea to idea left Jaal scrambling to keep up with her. While he'd grown close with everyone on the Tempest, enough that he was fairly certain his mothers back on Aya would fuss over them as much as they did he himself, he found himself growing closer with Sara than anyone else. Save perhaps Liam, of course. He still spent a lot of downtime with the crisis response specialist. But that was to relax. Spending time with Sara always meant learning something new and her desperate thirst for knowledge had been contagious. She was a good friend and it showed in everything she did- especially the apparent excitement she felt over Jaal getting to explore an empty angara city from a time before the Scourge. It was kind of sweet, really, that Sara was so excited to have found something she thought might make him happy.

 

Jaal was not as excited as he might have once been. Angaran culture was still _his_ culture, still something he was so fiercely proud and protective of, but there was the lingering knowledge in the back of his mind that they were made by the Jardaan. Some nights it kept him from sleeping, leaving him lying in his bedroll and staring up at the steel gray ceiling in the room he'd claimed on the _Tempest_ , wondering about the implications. The most frustrating thing was the lack of answers- the Jardaan had left so little behind that the collective knowledge of the species that had created the angara was frustratingly vague.

 

But this was something he could find an answer about. Even if the remaining records in this angaran ruin were few, it was still angaran. Jaal knew his own history well enough that he was fairly confident in his ability to walk away from whatever he found knowing more than he knew now. He'd be lying if he said some part of it wasn't spite- there was a stubborn refusal he had about letting the knowledge of the origins of his species change anything. They were still angara, with everything that meant, even if they had been genetically manufactured.

 

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, giving Sara a warm smile in return, reaching to clasp her hand in his for a moment before letting go and stepping towards the airlock. “Thank you, Sara. I appreciate the opportunity. I look forward to sharing what I find out,” he says. Sara leans back against the console, watching him leave with a fond expression on her face.

 

“Of course. Oh, and Jaal? Don't forget to keep your comms up and running. I don't think there's anything out there and it sure didn't look like it, but just in case. Don't hesitate to call us if you need us. And take a pistol,” she tells him, calling out last minute instructions. It reminds him for a moment, of one of his mothers, frantically reminding his siblings of various things before she steps back and lets them head to the markets. The idea of Sara- who was small even by human standards if the constant teasing from Liam was anything to go by- in a similar role as his mother, someone he always saw as tall and warm and safe even after he towered above her, brought a smile to his face, air escaping his nose in a surprisingly human manner. A substitute for a laugh, something he'd often caught Sara doing when talking to Scott.

 

He fondly shakes his head to himself as he steps into the airlock, stopping at his locker to fasten his pistol to his belt. He'd been noticing the way everyone on the _Tempest_ crew picked up habits and sayings and gestures from the other members of the crew and it was always enough to bring a smile to his face. Despite everything, or perhaps because of everything, they were family now.

* * *

Jaal steps out of the _Tempest_ , reflexively taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He'd never really seen these pine trees before, but it smelled different than the tropical forests of Aya in a way that was deeply comforting. The pine needles crunched under his feet as he stepped off the metal ship and for a moment he just stood there, shifting his feet on the strange carpet on the strange forest's floor before looking around.

 

The ship had managed to clip a few of the trees as they landed, leaving some of them with comically sheared off tips. Overall, there was little damage. The ground was scuffed up from the rough landing, but overall they would leave this strange new planet relatively unscarred. He pulls up his omni-tool, still getting used to the new device that Scott and Lexi had outfitted him with shortly after he joined the _Tempest's_ crew. He scanned the clearing around him before progressing further out of the protective field produced by the ship, but all readings tell him that this planet is perfectly normal and perfectly safe. Well, as normal and safe as a planet that was previously hidden by the Scourge should be, at least.

With that, Jaal checked his comms to make sure the connection was live and headed into the pine forest. Sunlight filtered through the trees, warm and inviting, and overhead he could hear birds chirping and insects buzzing. He wondered if this was what Sara had felt like in her childhood, in the pine forest she'd mentioned earlier. He can certainly see the appeal of the place- above all else, the forest seems inviting. He checked his omni-tool, making sure it was generating a map that could get him back to the ship if he happened to wander far enough, and then he was content to drift through the forest, taking in the flora and fauna he saw. He wondered, too, how much of it Sara would find familiar. The trees were the same, and though the sky was a pale pink instead of the blue that she'd talked about, he thought it might be similar. He wonders if Gil and Scott would like to bring the twins here. He wonders what the Moshae would think about this world.

 

And then, in the trees ahead, Jaal hears a branch snap. He freezes in place, eyes darting around, and in the brush he catches sight of a child. He gasps before he can stop himself and when his brain catches up with what that means he throws himself behind one of the big tree trunks. He doesn't know if the child saw him, but he knows for a fact that he saw her. She was angaran, pale blue in color, and she'd been hunched over something on the ground, poking at it with a stick. Moments later he hears her small footsteps moving away from him, further into the forest. His heart races in his chest as he reaches a hand up, activating his comms.

 

“Jaal? Did you find something already?” Sara asks, her voice crackling from the static.

 

“Are the communication relays working, Sara? I need to get a message to the Moshae. It's- it is urgent,” he says, one hand reaching up to curl around the pendant he wore around his neck. It was a gift from the Moshae herself, something she'd given him with a warm teasing smile and told him it was for helping save them. Her intentions had been sincere and he'd known, and still knows, how proud she had been of him for the part he played. It was why the necklace meant so much to him. Why he clutched at it now like he was holding a lifeline.

 

“Yeah, they're up. I'll work on getting her on the line while you work on getting back to the ship. Jaal...what did you find?” Sara asks and he doesn't need to see her face to see how worried she is. He can hear her moving over the comms, springing into action the way her brother had done so many times during his time as Pathfinder. He swallows, hard, and knows that telling Sara will mean facing the reality that he wasn't sure how to swallow.

 

“I saw- I saw a girl. She was just a child. Sara....it wasn't ruins that you saw,” he breathes. From the other end of the comm link, there is only quiet.

* * *

The Moshae arrives far more quickly than Jaal had anticipated. After they'd spoken over the comms, Jaal had spent the wait pacing back and forth, arms crossed over his chest as his mind wandered deep in thought. He wrestled with the idea of what this meant. A little angara child meant that there had to be adult angara somewhere. It meant that the ruins Sara saw weren't ruins- this was another world that had been cut off from them by the Scourge. They'd missed it, somewhere, in their records and their old star charts.

 

He wondered why he felt so damn guilty. It wasn't anything he could have controlled and there were a lot of other people who'd missed it too. Or had this not been an angaran world? Had this been an empty world once? Had these angara crashed because of the Scourge? How long had this community of angara been here? What was their culture like? Different angara on different worlds had different cultures and he was sure that this one would be no different. What did they know? Was there remnant technology on this world? All of these questions kept swirling around in his head, threatening to drown him under the weight of wondering. And while Sara was there, his beautifully curious friend who always had a dozen theories for any one thing, she was not angaran. And this was an angaran issue.

 

He thoughthe might buckle under the weight of the relief he felt when he saw the Moshae's scout ship dropping down into the clearing. Sara had managed to get the _Tempest_ in working order in the time that he'd spent pacing but had officially declared them grounded until they managed to meet up with the Moshae and come up with a game plan. Not that anybody was complaining. The desert heat of Eos wasn't something any of the crew were particularly thrilled about experiencing and this was a convenient way to put it off. Jaal himself was first off the ship when the angaran ship landed next to them, Sara following closely behind.

 

The Moshae steps off the ship with her head held high. She is much the same as she always is- elegant, beautiful, and happy to see Jaal. He lets out a rumbling sound of relief and goes to meet her, the Moshae reaching up to pull him into a hug. It is an easy and familiar gesture, Jaal folding himself up to make himself smaller as he curls into her embrace. For a moment, it makes him feel young again. Like the world is bright and new and not so scary, like he had felt long before he'd learned about the Jardaan and the artificial creation of the angara.

 

It is the most comforting thing he has ever experienced.

 

“Jaal, Ryder, it's so good to see the both of you. The circumstances are strange but it seems lately that Heleus has no shortage of strange circumstances,” the Moshae says, voice warm and welcoming, and as Jaal steps back out of her embrace she pulls Sara into it.

 

“You've got that right,” Sara agrees, a warm and bright smile on her face as she steps back.

 

“I've been looking over our records. I've been in contact with Avela on the way here and I've got news. You might not like it, Jaal, because I'm not so sure how I feel about it,” the Moshae says. The warmth is still in her voice even as she gets straight to business- it's something Jaal has always adored about her. There was nothing that could replace his own mothers, but the Moshae was practically one of them at this point.

 

“What did you find?” he asks, his voice rumbling low in his throat. Sara had once told him, matter-of-factually, that he reminded her of a purring cat when his voice did that. She'd been trying to get one onto the _Tempest_ ever since.

 

“This is an angaran world. It's been a world of ours for centuries. The planet is called Avora. This colony of angara...we've been out of contact with them for centuries. We need to approach this situation carefully. I know we've had our differences in the past, Jaal, but I'm sure you can agree with me on this,” she says, turning to look at him. If he didn't know her so well, he wouldn't be able to see the concern glinting in her eyes. But he does and he can and he's a little touched that the Moshae is so worried about how he's taking everything.

 

“So I guess we need to treat it like First Contact, huh?” Sara says, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight to one foot. She gets a look on her face that Jaal recognizes, the same look she always gets when she's trying to puzzle out a solution.

 

“Yes. And we should keep your crew hidden here. I don't want to shut you out of this entirely, Sara. I know you're taking over as the Pathfinder while your brother is busy with his young, but...this is an angaran matter,” the Moshae replies, turning her worried gaze to Sara. It would seem the human had been anticipating such a sentiment, because she just nods.

 

“I don't want to just leave Jaal here- he's my crew now- so I think maybe we should stay here, in the clearing. A nice little vacation on the _Tempest._ And then if you need anything, we've got plenty of fuel, and we'd be happy to make a trip to Aya or the Nexus,” she says. Though her offer is sincere, Jaal can pick out a calculating look in her eyes too. This is the Sara that he might have known if things had been different and she'd woken up before her brother. This is the Sara that wants to ensure a positive relationship with his people, the Sara who is thinking about their political alliance. The Sara who had helped them defeat the Archon. He doesn't hide how proud he is of her.

 

“That is an agreeable idea. You can also get some scans of the planet from orbit to give us more information when you go- I know we'll need more nutrient paste soon. And Jaal? You're younger than I am and can move easier. I'm going to send you out on reconnaissance. Find out where this settlement is exactly, but stay out of sight. Pick up whatever information you can, too. We need it more than anything else if we're to make this work,” the Moshae says. It reminds Jaal, like many things today, of home. Of standing in the middle of his house while one of his mothers gave out orders before the family dispersed to tackle their tasks with teamwork.

 

He was so stubbornly proud of being angaran. He thinks, based on the look the Moshae gives him, that she knows and she understands. He hadn't had much time to talk since they'd helped take Meridian from the kett, so he doesn't know how the Moshae has been dealing with the knowledge of the Jardaan. He thinks it might have been easier on him if he'd been able to talk to her about it. But she was here now, and he was eager to sit at her feet like he had when he was a child and listen to what she had to say.

 

“Of course, Moshae. Shall I go now?” he asks. The wind blows, a gentle breeze that brings with it the smell of rain, rustling the tops of the pine trees Sara seemed so fond of.

 

“Better hold off on it. Look at the clouds. It looks like rain. We don't want you to be caught out somewhere in case the rain is toxic,” Sara says, tipping her back to look up at the sky.

 

The Moshae dips her head in agreement, turning back to look up the ship she'd just walked out of. “In the meantime, Jaal, you and I should spend time together. Come, we've much to talk about,” she says, reaching out to squeeze Sara's shoulder affectionately in farewell before grabbing Jaal's elbow and leading him away. Sara watches them with a fond little smile on her face.

* * *

That night, Jaal falls asleep curled up in the Moshae's bed, tucked against her side. It has been a very long time since he was in the bed of one of his mothers and even longer still since he had been in the Moshae's bed (there had been nights when he was studying with her that he'd fallen asleep in her bed and woken up feeling safe and protected as she ushered him out of the bed for breakfast, teasing him fondly about the way he'd snored or the things he'd said in his sleep). And there's something about falling asleep in her bed now that takes him back to, like a time machine, and makes him feel small and warm and safe, drifting off to the sound of rain pattering on the metal hull of the ship, a soft and soothing nighttime melody.

 

They had talked well into the night, going over and over the discovery of the Jardaan the way he'd been wanting to since he'd found out. The Moshae tells him about how it makes her feel and what she thinks it means. And then she does the thing that she has always done, the thing that made Jaal love her even when he was little. She listened to him. She heard all of his frustrations and all of his worries, everything that had been building in the long months since they'd made their discovery. And when he breaks off, overwhelmed with emotions, she ushers him into bed and tucks the blanket around him. She runs her hand over his forehead, humming soft and low.

He dreams, that night. His dreams are bright and vivid and strange, full of tall pine forests and little girls darting through the trees. Full of ship crashes and stargazing and the sense of something great and wonderful lingering just over the horizon.

* * *

Morning is not nearly as promising as his dreams had lead him to believe. He'd woken up with that same sense of something great and wonderful just around the corner, until all of his senses came back to him and he could hear just how fiercely it was still raining outside. The Moshae is nowhere in the room. He supposes she is either elsewhere in the ship or that she had gone to the _Tempest_ to speak with Sara. So he is alone as he untangles himself from the blankets, swinging his feet off the bunk and onto the cool metal flooring.

 

There had been a time when he had hated spaceships. No matter how big they were, they were always cramped, like trying to live out of a shoe box. Everything was made out of the same sterile metal, everything bolted into place. Once, he had looked at spaceships and saw only a place that was inhospitable, a home that was uncomfortable almost by design. After his time on the _Tempest_ , however, he'd learned to love it. His home had been cramped with all the siblings he had, after all. It wasn't so different living on the _Tempest_ , in close quarters with the Pathfinder's team, than it was to live at home on Aya, in close quarters with family. He supposed, too, that the crew was not just his crew any longer, that they were _family_. And now, looking out the window at the misty, rainy pine forest, Jaal knows that he is about to set out on something that could change society at large.

 

He hoped it was more rewarding than most of his work with the resistance. His true mother had once told him that he had a kind heart and a gentle soul. Jaal knew that she was proud of him, in part because she told him so frequently, but he also knew that she worried, though she never told him that. He supposed that that was just how angaran society worked. Children went off to war against the kett and mothers were worried and were proud and sometimes the children came home and sometimes they didn't.

 

And now that was over. The Archon was dead. The resistance had other goals now that there were so few kett strongholds left.

 

The native angara of Avora would never know that. They would never know what it was like to come home from war only to see their children take their place. They would never know the desperate, terrifying fight against the kett. They would never have to worry about being exalted.

 

And so, as Jaal stood at the window and watched the rain, he decided that he wanted to see these angara happy and safe and protected. He wanted to show them the wonder that the world held within- something that so many of them had lost sight of so long again in the desperately bitter fight. He would see them enter their world in a Golden Age, where the kett weren't a problem and the Milky Way races were their allies.

 

With that decision firm in his mind, Jaal trudged out of the Moshae's ship and through the rain to the _Tempest_. It was every bit as miserable as it looked from the window, cold and heavy, and by the time he stepped on board rain had dripped down the back of his rofjinn and he was uncomfortably damp. It was not the best start to his self-decided mission. 

* * *

 

The Moshae had indeed been sitting on the Pathfinder ship, talking to Sara while the human drank a cup of coffee. Jaal had tried the stuff once- it tasted terribly bitter despite all the sugar that she poured into it. An untouched cup sat next to the Moshae- it would seem she shared his sentiments. Sara had turned her attention to him with a smile as bright as the sun and proudly presented him with an umbrella. It was clear plastic, cheerfully patterned with ducks, the handle a bright blue. It looked out of place in the dreary pine forest but Sara told him it was a recreation of what had been her favorite umbrella back on Earth and had declared it a good luck charm while the Moshae looked on in amusement.

 

The Moshae simply reminded Jaal that today was about reconnaissance, about seeing and not being seen. About learning without being learned. He listened to her instructions carefully, nodding with a faint fond smile on his face before ducking out in the rain, his gifted umbrella open only after he'd stepped outside when Liam had insisted it'd be bad luck to open it on board.

 

With several good luck wishes from the crew echoing in his ears, Jaal stepped into the forest. Despite being a high ranking member of the resistance, he wasn't actually sure how to go about doing this. All of the reconnaissance he'd done had been done much differently- he'd had clear goals and clear targets. Here, now, he didn't even know precisely where the settlement was. After wandering in the forest, reaching what was close to the same area as he'd reached the previous day according to his omni-tool, he decided he would climb a tree. One of them stood taller than any of the others, the top of it towering above the canopy of the forest and Jaal thought that perhaps if he could make his way up there he could at least see where the settlement was. If there was a settlement at all. He didn't think he wanted the mystery of why a little angara girl was wandering an empty forest alone if there wasn't one.

 

He thought it was a good plan until he began trying to set it in motion. Jaal soon realized that there was no way to climb and hold the umbrella, so he regretfully left it propped up against the trunk of the tree. As he hefted himself up onto the first branch, he realized that the rain made the rough bark slick and difficult to keep his footing on. Still, he persisted, gritting his teeth and pulling himself up branch by branch, progressing agonizingly slowly with rain soaking into his clothes and leaving him shivering.

 

“You were here yesterday,” a voice says from down below, and Jaal is so startled that he falls from the tree with a yelp, landing in an undignified heap on the wet forest floor. It knocks the breath from him, leaving him dizzy, but he hadn't been so high up that he'd been seriously hurt. As the world stops spinning, the little angara girl from yesterday comes into view.

 

“You...saw me?” he asks, wincing as he sits up, taking a good long look at the girl. She looks afraid, but there's a determined set to her jaw that tells Jaal of the courage hidden within this small body. Her clothes are different than what he's seen before and yet he finds they are oddly similar. They have the same beautifully vibrant colors that most angara preferred to wear and yet the fabric was draped around her small frame in a fashion that none of the angara he knew had adapted. Was this child a misfit, or was this average for this strange new culture?

 

“I thought I did, but then you weren't there when I looked, and I got scared so I ran back to the village. I didn't tell anybody because I knew they wouldn't believe me,” she answers, staring up at him warily. Jaal recognizes her stance- she's poised like she's hasn't decided whether she should get ready to fight or flee so she's in some awkward middle phase. She's remarkably honest to be standing in the middle of the forest talking to a strange man in strange clothes. He notices her accent, too. Even with the translator in his ear likely translating the local dialect, her accent is soft and lilting. Everything about this small child in front of him is endearing.

 

“Not even your parents?” he asks. He doesn't try to stand up, just stays sitting splayed out on the ground, even though the two of them are getting drenched in the downpour. The girl doesn't seem to mind and he doesn't want to scare her by reaching for Sara's umbrella, so he sits and lets the cold rain drip down the back of his rofjinn

 

“They died,” she answers curtly and some part of his heart breaks for her. He doesn't even think the Moshae would scold him for it.

 

“Oh. I am very sorry to hear that,” he says, sorrow rumbling in his voice. Somehow, it puts the girl at ease, and she drops her awkward stance into something more relaxed. Moments later, she comes and sits cross-legged on the ground in front of him, heedless of the rain. Slowly, he reaches for the umbrella. The girl tenses up again, like she's ready to run, but moments later Jaal's holding the umbrella over the two of them. The girl looks up at the clear duck-printed plastic, eyes round with wonder.

 

“Where are you from? I ain't never seen you before. And I know _everybody_ in the village,” the girl asks, curiosity getting the better of her. She looks up at him, curiously and demandingly, and it reminds Jaal of one of his younger sisters. He smiles.

 

“I'm from another planet,” he says and the girl frowns, sharp and angry.

 

“You ain't gotta lie about it if you don't wanna tell me,” she snaps, crossing her little arms and glowering at him. And oh, but he wants to bundle her up in his arms and take her back to the _Tempest_ and get her warm and dry.

 

“I'm not lying. I can show you my spaceship. Of course, I understand if it's too scary to go with me. We don't even know each other's names, after all,” he says, warm invitation in his voice, and the little girl's glower grows a little more pronounced.

 

“I ain't scared of _nothing_. And my name is Hahve. Now _you_ gotta tell me _your_ name,” she says. What a stubborn, independent thing this child is, he thinks. He wonders what the Moshae would make of her.

 

“My name is Jaal Ama Darav. There are people, back at my spaceship. One of them is a woman we call Moshae Sjefa. There are...there are aliens there, too,” he warns her. He didn't want to take her back to camp only for her to see Sara or Vetra or Drack or Kallo or any of the others and get frightened away. Not only did he hate the idea of frightening her, but he was worried she would flee to the village from whence she came with tales of monsters in the forest. Such a thing would go terribly.

 

“Aliens? What kind of aliens?” she asks, eyes lighting up with curiosity. She leans forward, like being closer will make the story come out faster, and as she does Jaal notices a necklace swinging forward. It is a piece of technology, clearly remnant in nature. The lines etched into it glow green and there's a careful hole drilled through the thin sheet with the leather cord looped through it. It's shaped almost like an arrowhead and it is enough to pique his curiosity. What did this society know of the remnant? Was there a vault on this world? Was it functioning? He made note of all of these questions to ponder with the Moshae later.

 

“They're from very, very far away. From another galaxy, in fact. They came to our galaxy seeking a new home. Some of them are called humans, but there is also a turian, krogan, salarian, and two asari on the ship. I was scared of them at first and didn't trust them, but now they're some of my closest friends,” he tells her, his voice solemn. She pauses, as if she's deliberating, then nods once before bounding to her feet and staring expectantly at him. Jaal smiles as he pulls himself to his feet, and to his delighted surprise Hahve takes his hand in hers and tucks herself up against his side.

 

Jaal leads her slowly through the forest, making sure the umbrella is over her too. It is Sara that sees them first, coming to a sudden halt as she takes in the sight in front of her. He shrugs apologetically and a half smile tugs at her mouth as she motions them towards the ship. He leans down to Hahve, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

 

“That is one of the humans. Her name is Sara Ryder. She's the one in charge of that ship,” he tells her, pointing. Hahve takes everything in, eyes wide and curious, awestruck as she stumbles after Jaal, her hands clutching his arm. Moments later, the Moshae steps out of the ship, eyes narrowed over Hahve's head.

 

“Who's that?” Hahve whispers, tucking herself up against Jaal's side.

 

“That is Moshae Sjefa. She was one of my teachers when I was your age. She's a very nice woman,” he promises. For the first time since sitting down in front of him in the forest, Hahve hesitates.

 

“I guess if you trust her I can meet her,” she says, shuffling her feet in the pine needles. It is only then that he realizes she isn't wearing shoes. Is that something related to the way this society lives, or it is just this child that doesn't have any? He doesn't know how to ask without seeming rude. But then Hahve steps forward, beautiful and brave, her tiny head held high as she approaches the Moshae. Jaal doesn't know her, but he feels pride swelling in his heart all the same as he watches her.

* * *

Introductions themselves pass smoothly. Sara steps up into her job as ambassador cheerfully, roping the whole crew into making Hahve feel welcome. Liam teaches her a children's game from Earth, Cora shows off with her biotics. Drack even lets the girl ride on his shoulders while he charges through the clearing, her shrieks of laughter echoing through the trees. Even so, she keeps gravitating back to Jaal like he's her favorite. Like she trusts _him_ to keep her safe above all else.

 

Soon enough, though, the girl has worn herself out. Sara gives her an old t-shirt that nearly swallows her whole and tucks her into the bed in the Pathfinder's quarters. There is a moment where he's painfully certain the human can feel the tension in the room emanating from the Moshae and he's unsurprised when she quickly excuses herself. Once she's gone and fully out of earshot, the Moshae turns to him.

 

The look on her face is one that is deeply familiar. Already he feels as though he is being scolded when she hasn't even opened her mouth, but that same warm fondness lingers in the depths of her gaze. He realizes now more than ever the Moshae reminds him of one of his mothers, disciplining him firmly and then afterwards making sure he knew it came from a place of overwhelming love. He had half an instinct to wrap the Moshae in a hug- one which he stomped down and ignored. Even though he felt like one in her presence over the last few days, he wasn't a child anymore, and he needed to act like the adult he was.

 

“This is not what I asked you to do, Jaal,” the Moshae says, her voice firmly disappointed. Somehow, it cuts deeper than any anger, and Jaal _knows_ she knew it would. He can't help but cross his arms petulantly.

 

“It isn't what I meant to do either,” he answers, sounding for all the world as petulant as he feels, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out of his voice. The Moshae sighs, reaching out to run her hand down the side of his face, her thumb lingering on his scar for half a second.

 

“I know you are doing your best, Jaal. But this is first contact. There are a lot of things that could go wrong. Having a child such as Hahve be the first to know about us is problematic at best. She could tell the whole village before we're ready to reveal ourselves and it can be difficult to gather information about the society from her. She is only a child,” she says. Jaal nods reluctantly- he knew she was right. He'd been having the same worries and concerns since the girl had scared him out of his tree, but it wasn't as though he could have helped it. He supposed he should have looked around more thoroughly to make sure he was truly alone in the woods, especially with Sara's ridiculously bright umbrella. But overall he knew it could have gone a lot worse. At least he'd managed to gain Hahve's trust.

 

“I didn't mean for it to go like this, Moshae. But she found me in the forest and when I asked about her parents she told me they were dead. She isn't even wearing shoes. I couldn't just leave her there. And I knew what the risks were, but she found me. I thought it safer to bring her here than to have her go back to her village,” he reminds her, sitting down on a nearby bench. The Moshae moves to stand next to him, one hand coming to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. Even now, she was trying to reassure him.

 

“I suppose you're right. Now I'm worried about getting her home. How can we be sure she won't say anything? And if we keep her here, though she's an orphan, it might be cause for entire search parties to be sent after her. There is much to consider, especially concerning what we'll tell them,” she says. There's an undercurrent to her voice that Jaal can pick out due to all the years he's known her and he's not sure he likes what it's implying.

 

“You mean about the Jardaan?” he asks. The Moshae smiles at him- a small, sad smile that tells him she's proud of his cleverness even with all the problems that come with it.

 

“Yes. I don't think it's necessary for them to know. What has it done for us, except bring us heartache?” she asks. Jaal stiffens under her hand, rising to his feet and coming to stand in front of the windows. It is perhaps not the smartest thing to have this conversation in the Pathfinder's quarters, where Hahve is sleeping in the bed nearby. But she'd insisted Jaal stay nearby and looking at her small face relaxed in sleep he couldn't bring himself to leave, even for this. He'd just have to hope he could keep his voice down.

 

“How could you? They deserve to know! Just as we all did. They should get to decide for themselves what it means, just as we do. It is a difficult thing to decide, I know, but they have a right to this information. We cannot keep it from them, just as we cannot keep the knowledge of the kett from them,” he answers, heat curling in his voice. It isn't surprising that the Moshae feels this way and if he thinks about it he can understand why. But it is something he feels equally as strong about. It's one of the rare subjects he isn't willing to budge on.

 

“I'm not so sure we should tell them about the kett, either, if they don't already know. Do you want the Roekaar to have more flock to their cause? Do we want this society to know of the pain we've suffered? We have allies in the galaxy now, Jaal, we have to think about how this could affect them as well,” she says, her voice measured and calm. It was one of the things he'd always admired about her. He'd seen her go toe-to-toe with Evfra once, collected and quiet while he'd gotten angry. It had been impressive then and it was now even if he hated arguing against it himself.

 

“They deserve to know all of it. They deserve to know about the war we have been fighting and they deserve to know how our allies have helped us win. They deserve to know about the Jardaan, to rediscover with us what it means to be angara when we know that they created us for some unknown purpose. They deserve to know everything they do not already know. They are us, Moshae, there is no reason for there to be a gap in their knowledge,” he says, pleadingly. If the Moshae will not agree with him, if she insists that this information be kept from them, Jaal thinks it might be the first assignment he has to abandon. He doesn't think he can live with himself if he lies to these new angara, even if it is only a lie by omission. He looks over at little Hahve, curled up in a ball under the covers, fast asleep. She deserves to know of the world outside this planet and everything that entails. He doubts she would be satisfied with half-truths and if this child feels that way he cannot see it being any easier to feed the adults of this society anything else.

 

The Moshae sighs. “I will think about it, Jaal. You may be right. But the one thing I am sure of is that the situation is complicated. We don't need to tell them everything at the beginning anyway, and I don't think we should. We need to feed them this information slowly, acclimate them to the idea of different lives in the rest of the galaxy. There is a lot of angaran history they do not know and we need to take it slowly,” she says, a warning laced into her tone, and in this at least Jaal can relent.

 

“I won't just tell them, Moshae. Despite my actions today, I am no fool,” he promises, amusement laced into his voice, and just like that the argument is over. The Moshae might not have agreed with him just yet, but she'd promised to think about it, and he knew she always kept those sorts of promises. She smiles, reaching out to run her hand down the side of his face once more before pulling him into a hug.

 

“Stay with her until she wakes then. I'll think over what you've said,” she says gently, giving him a firm squeeze before letting him go. As Jaal arranges himself gingerly on the bed, legs crossed, eyes on Hahve as she sleeps, the Moshae slips quietly out of the Pathfinder's quarters in search of peace and quiet.

* * *

By the time Hahve wakes, the rain has moved on. Her clothes have been dried and Jaal helps her dress, laughing as she wrinkles her nose at the strange scent of the laundry detergent. It had taken him awhile to get used to it too. It is evening, now, the sun peeking through the clouds, making the lingering mist in the forest look ethereal and beautiful. He can understand why Sara's pine forest back on Earth was her favorite- the sight nearly takes his breath away.

 

He has little time to enjoy the scenery, though, because Hahve takes off with a shriek of laughter, launching herself at Drack. The old krogan laughs, picking her up and swinging her onto his shoulders. “Kesh always liked it when she was little,” he offers by way of explanation as Jaal watches. The Moshae drifts up to him, one hand reaching up to rest between his shoulders in the easy affectionate way she had.

 

“You should get her home soon,” she comments, watching the way Drack runs around the clearing with Hahve laughing on his shoulders, a soft smile on her face. She had no children of her own- Jaal had asked her about it once. She'd said that as far as she was concerned, the children she taught, him included, were hers. And the Moshae had taught a great many children. He'd thought once, and foolishly, that it must have been lonely. That the Moshae had no great extended family like he did, that she was by herself. And then one day the Moshae had asked him to accompany her to the markets. Everybody had stopped to speak with her, fondly and cheerfully, and Jaal had realized that day that family wasn't only who you were related to. It was, to date, one of the most important lessons he'd ever learned.

 

“I should. I'm worried about getting seen trying to do so,” he admits, leaning into her touch. His heart lurches as Drack comes to a sudden stop, Hahve nearly falling from his shoulders, but the familiar blue glow of Cora's biotics envelop her before she can fall and she's laughing again.

 

“I was thinking about that. Perhaps...perhaps you should let her introduce you. I trust that you won't say anything you shouldn't and it would keep any problems arising from us staying hidden. You're angaran, after all, just as they are. It would be more difficult if you were to take one of your Milky Way friends with you, but going alone? I think you'll do brilliantly,” she says and when Jaal turns to look at her she had a warm and proud smile on her face.

* * *

Jaal's confidence lasts until he's alone in the forest with Hahve. If the girl notices, she pays no mind, bounding ahead and chattering about things he doesn't know about. Something about the children from the village, he thinks, and maybe the village elders. For all that he'd had to prod her into trusting him, now she didn't want to seem to quiet down, leaving him on edge as they approached the village through the forests.

 

Just outside the village, Jaal can see heavy log walls surrounding it through the trees. He slows to a stop, Hahve halting next to him before cautiously reaching up to take his hand. He squeezes gently, looking down at her with a nervous smile.

 

“It'll be okay. I know you're worried, but I promise I'll keep you safe,” she says, with all the solemnity she could muster in her voice. It was out of place on the girl, who'd spent the last fifteen minutes chattering excitedly about an upcoming festival. It was not a festival the rest of the angara celebrated.

 

“I hope you can help them understand, Hahve. But if you can't....promise me something,” he says, kneeling down in front of her. He takes both of her hands in his, looking into her bright wide eyes.

 

“What is it?” she asks, excited conversation about the festival and her village friends fading away. She knows enough to know how serious Jaal is, knows enough to know how serious this situation is. Though she doesn't understand the full gravity of it, for which he is grateful, she knows enough to know that the village elders will likely take some convincing. She knows that he might be walking into a village that won't let him walk back out. There's a fierce and stubborn determination within her that swears she'll keep him safe, but realistically the two of them know there's little she'll be able to do.

 

“If something happens, if your village decides not to believe me...don't try to intervene. Let them do what they have decided to do. I don't want you getting hurt,” he says, reaching up to cup the side of her face the same way the Moshae did to him. Hahve hesitates for a moment before she reaches up, her little hand cupping his face right below his scar.

 

“I won't get in the way, but I'll do what I can to help,” she says, and the tone in her voice tells Jaal there will be no argument. He hopes that it won't be an issue.

 

“I suppose that's all I can ask for. Now....why don't you take me in and introduce me?” he says, standing back up. She looks up at him for a long moment before she suddenly darts forward, her little arms wrapping around his midsection as she squeezes him in a hug. She darts away again before he can hug her back, her hand slipping into his as she leads him through the brush to a well-worn path.

 

“Some of the village elders and the mothers come out here to pick herbs. There aren't any growing right now, it's not the right season,” she explains in a hushed voice, noting the way he looks at it. Jaal nods, squeezing her hand encouragingly, and Hahve leads him on, the walled village coming closer with every step.

* * *

When the two of them walk into the village, everything stops. Jaal included- he cannot stop himself from gawking. It's a normal enough village, he supposes, and to the angara that live there it must be completely unremarkable in the same way that all small settlements are. But for Jaal, it is a marvel. The buildings are not made out of uniform metal. They're made out of the same pine logs that make up the wall around the village. Several of them, homes he assumes, boast small picket fences with brightly flowered gardens out front. The road into the village leads to a central square, where small kiosks line the edge of the street.

 

And through it all, the same remnant metal that Hahve wears on her necklace is speckled throughout as decoration. Some of the windowpanes are lined with it. There are pieces hanging over the doors like a good luck charm- Sara once told him about an old Earth tradition, though she had called it a superstition, that involved hanging a horseshoe over the front door of a home. The same remnant lights that Jaal's seen in remnant vaults with Scott line the streets, the blue glow strangely comforting in the setting of the small village.

 

And then he begins to gawk at the people in the same way they are gawking at him. Their fashion, too, is strange. It is similar to what Hahve is wearing, mostly soft leathers and hides, with some lighter fabrics worked in, much of it brightly colored. He notices several remnant accessories among them and he notices that, though few of them carry weapons, the weapons they do carry have modified remnant technology. There's a spear he notices in the crowd, the sharp metal tip of it crafted out of metal, strange etchings on the handle of it. There's a quiver of arrows, all of them tipped with remnant technology.

 

The crowd parts suddenly and Jaal struggles with the instinct to shrink behind Hahve. He feels exposed, suddenly, with the entire village staring at him. But he's a member of the angaran resistance, and he draws himself up tall as an old woman slinks through the parted villagers. She carries a simple wooden walking stick, more pieces of remnant tech tied around it with leather cord. Beneath his hand, he feels Hahve as she starts to surge forward before melting back against him, as if remembering her promise to try to protect him.

 

The woman stops just in front of them, standing in silence for a long moment as she takes Jaal in, before her gaze flicks down. “And what kind of stray have you brought in this time, Hahve?” the woman asks, her voice full of the same warmth as the Moshae's.

 

“A friend,” Hahve answers, her chin jutting defiantly, and the woman kneels with a chuckle.

 

“Why don't you take him home? I'll be by soon, little bird. I want to calm everyone here first,” she tells her. Hahve nods solemnly, before she begins to tug insistently at Jaal's hand. He glances at the woman, who only nods at him before turning to the villagers, launching into a speech. He could swear he's heard the Moshae give several just like it when things with the resistance got particularly grim and Evfra swore they needed the morale boost. They both thought it was foolish, but Jaal had always loved listening to her speak.

* * *

Hahve leads him to a large hut in the center of the village. The outside is painted with bright colors, beautiful designs of pine forests and flowers and landscapes he assumes are from the rest of the planet that he hasn't seen yet. There's a string of dried herbs hanging over the doorway. Through the window, he can see wind chimes made of bits of remnant tech. Sara would definitely enjoy spending time here.

 

Hahve doesn't hesitate in opening the door and gesturing him inside. “Miss Imelda- that's who we just talked to- she's the one who takes care of me since Mama and Papa died last winter,” she says, hanging off the doorknob while Jaal looks around. The hut is certainly cozy- for all that it's large, the edges of the front room are lined with shelves full of books and herbs, tinctures and poultices. Whoever this Imelda is to the village, Jaal assumes that she is also the village healer. In the center of the room, arranged around a rug, are pillows and cushions. Hahve bounds over and flops down on one of them, gesturing for Jaal to follow her. This must be where Imelda entertains visitors. Jaal hesitantly shuffles over to where she lies, gingerly folding himself down onto one of the larger cushions. Through the doorway, he can see a kitchen, with a clay oven and a stove, bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling. There's a window in there too- he can just barely catch a glimpse of the darkening sky through the glass- and underneath the window is a table with two chairs. Whatever else Jaal may come to think of this place- it looks like a home.

 

It is incredibly different from his own home. His is much bigger, less crowded with things and objects, and it seems that only Imelda and Hahve live here. It reminds him more of the Moshae's home. He had been there nearly as often as he'd been in his own home. The Moshae's house is also crowded- tables lined with bits of whatever she was currently researching, papers spread around, trinkets that had been gifted to her placed with care. Other students had sworn the Moshae was the most disorganized woman they'd ever seen, disappointed by the great figurehead of their culture, but Jaal had never thought her disorganized. She just had things organized for her, not anybody else, and he must have been the only one able to understand her system. But the Moshae always knew where everything was. As he looks around the hut, he wonders if Imelda is the same way. He wonders if Imelda and Hahve have a similar relationship as he has with the Moshae. Is Imelda teaching her? Will Hahve one day take Imelda's place?

 

He is dragged out of his thoughts by the opening of the door. Imelda steps inside, shaking her head fondly. She ignores them both for the time being, busying herself with propping her wooden walking stick against the wall and feeding more oil into the lantern hanging by the door. Finally, she turns around, a critical eye roving over Jaal as she does, her hands on her hips. It makes him feel like a child again- the Moshae had caught him once, covered in mud as he stood in her kitchen, and she'd stared at him with the same look Imelda is currently giving him. The memory is almost enough to make him smile.

 

“Hahve, why don't you go check on your friends? Some of them seemed very scared by his arrival. You know how you always make them feel better,” Imelda says, reaching over and running a hand down Hahve's face as the girl pouts up at her.

 

“I want to stay with my new friend. I told him I'd protect him,” she protests, and Imelda gives her an indulgent smile.

 

“Your friend will be safe here with me, Hahve. I just want to speak with him. And maybe when he comes back, you can serve him some of the leftover cake with the tea you like, yes? You can both have some before you have to go to bed,” she replies, reaching out and booping her on the nose with one finger. Hahve grumbles under her breath as she stands up, but the girl pauses long enough to wrap her arms around Imelda in a hug before turning to Jaal and doing the same. She squeezes him extra hard before she scampers away, pausing to fumble with the latch on the door, and then she's out in the twilight. Imelda watches her go with a fond smile on her face before turning to Jaal.

 

“Now. First, I think we need to introduce ourselves. I'm Imelda, the village healer. And leader, I suppose. Someone needs to keep this rabble in line. Who are you?” she asks, sitting down on the cushion across from him and gazing at him intently. He gets the feeling that, right now, he's more of a mystery to solve than anything else. Clearly, Imelda has decided he isn't a threat, for which he's grateful.

 

“I am Jaal Ama Darav. My position is quite difficult to explain- I am a member of the angara Resistance, and a crew member on the human Pathfinder's team,” he answers, slow and thoughtful. He thinks about the Moshae, about all the things they have to tell these angara that she isn't sure they should know. Imelda gives him a shrewd look and Jaal thinks maybe it'll be more difficult to hide it from them than the Moshae would like. Maybe she would meet Imelda and the two would get on in the way several of his mothers did, and he would catch them sitting alone and talking with quiet gleams in their eyes, falling quiet when they notice he's there. Maybe it won't be as he fears.

 

“Resistance? Against what?” Imelda asks, voice sharp, eyes narrowing just a little. Jaal swallows, knowing he needs to tread carefully right now.

 

“Against aliens called the Kett. It is a long story and one that I may not be the best equipped to tell. I have others with me- there's another angaran woman known as Moshae Sjefa. She's...the cultural leader of the rest of the angara. We- I come from another planet. There are several out there, but I first met those I travel with on Aya. It is the center of our culture. With me, I have...aliens. They come from another galaxy,” he says, fumbling over his words. He remembers how tense his first meeting with Scott Ryder was. He does not want a repeat of it with Imelda.

 

“Aliens? Other planets? You realize you sound mad,” she points out, crossing her arms over her chest. Her face is impassive, giving nothing about her thoughts away, and Jaal swallows hard again. He feels like he's walking on eggshells- a human saying that he'd learned from Liam that feels apt for the situation.

 

“Yes. But I'm not- I have technology you don't have here. And back through the forest, I can show you my spaceships. Or the alien members of my crew- my friends. Or I could go get them and bring them here,” he says, squaring his shoulders as he looks at her. He'd perfected this look in the Resistance- sometimes other angara that ranked beneath him doubted him and while he had wanted to address their concerns, he knew letting them see him hesitate would be bad for morale.

 

“You are awfully determined to prove yourself. It makes you more believable. I won't take you up on your offer just yet- you'll stay here until the sun comes up. I won't let you go back through the forest alone tonight and I'm too old to be traveling all that way in the dark,” she says, her face softening into something almost maternal.

 

“And tomorrow?” Jaal asks, half hopeful. Imelda smiles at him, reaching out to pat his shoulder as she rises to her feet to fix him a bedroll for the night.

 

“Tomorrow, I will go with you, and see if you are truly as mad as you sound,” she tells him, winking at him as she shuffles off.

* * *

Jaal doesn't sleep well that night. He's too worried about what will happen when he brings Imelda back to the clearing. It would be easier if Sara and the others weren't there, easier to show her the Moshae first. But Sara and the others from the Milky Way were their allies- they had as much right as Jaal and the Moshae to be introduced to these new angara. As such, it feels like morning will never come. When it does, Jaal stirs from his bedroll, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He's exhausted down to his bones. He'd learned during his time with the Resistance to sleep nearly anywhere in nearly any conditions, but after long months of peace, that had clearly changed.

 

Imelda is bustling around the kitchen moments later, gesturing insistently at him to take a seat at the table next to the window. Rising to his feet, he does as she bids, settling down on the sturdy wood, his fingers tracing the grain of it. It had been a long time since he had seen any wooden furniture- everything the angara had and everything the Milky Way races had were the same pre-fabricated uniform things. The table, though, was made of wood planks, none of them uniform. There was one in the middle with a hole where a knot in the tree had been, and Imelda had stuck a candle down in it.

 

And then Imelda sits breakfast down in front of him. It's real, proper food. Not the nutrient paste he's been eating his entire life. He understands, of course, why the nutrient paste is what angara eat. He also finds Milky Way foods taste bland- or, at least, the stuff on the ship does. He'd quite enjoyed the popcorn they'd had on movie night. It was a pity it was in such short supply.

 

“Well? Is there something wrong with it?” Imelda asks, hands on her hips, and Jaal realizes he'd just been staring at the meal in front of him. It does look beautiful, especially compared to the paste he usually eats. She'd cut off pieces of bread and toasted them, laying fruit and nuts over top it, smothering it all in honey. He didn't recognize all of the fruits or the nuts, but it looked delicious. Fruit was one of his favorite things- a frustratingly rare treat, he loved how sweet and juicy it was. One of his favorite childhood memories was of his mothers laughing at him as he stood dripping fruit juice over the floor.

 

“No, no. It's just...very different from what I usually eat,” he tells her, a gentle smile on his face. Imelda watches him for another moment, lips pressed into a frown, before she bustles off. Jaal digs into the meal and he enjoys it so much that he doesn't see the amused look on Imelda's face as she watches him.

* * *

The meeting with the Moshae goes better than expected. Imelda seems to take everything in her stride, observing the clearing and the ships and the Milky Way aliens intently. Sara is friendly, but Jaal knows her well enough to see the tension held in her shoulders as she tries to read her body language. On his end, Imelda doesn't seem to give much away, observing it all without saying much.

 

She spends a lengthy amount of time talking with the Moshae, asking questions about the society they came from. Jaal wanders off while this happens, knowing the Moshae won't reveal anything important. He ends up nodding off on a bench on the Tempest, only startling awake when Sara taps him on the shoulder to tell him the Moshae wants to talk to him.

* * *

The conversation with the Moshae devolves into the same argument they'd had earlier. Jaal isn't even sure how- it had begun with each of them asking the other what they thought of Imelda, with Jaal giving a report on what little he'd seen of the village earlier. And then, somehow, they'd started arguing. The Moshae still didn't want to tell Imelda what they'd learned and Jaal was maintained that she, along with all the other angara in the village, had a right to know. Imelda had also spoken to the Moshae about Hahve and told her how the little girl had talked at length about wanting to leave with Jaal. The Moshae thought it was irresponsible of him to have bonded with her when he was going across the galaxy with Sara, Jaal didn't understand why he couldn't bring Hahve into the ship provided Imelda gave permission and the girl wanted to go.

 

The argument ended when Jaal stomped away to the Pathfinder's ship, arms crossed petulantly over his chest.

* * *

Imelda returned to the village that evening and the next morning she returned with Hahve. Though Imelda had been briefly introduced to everyone the day before, Hahve dragged her to the aliens by the hand, introducing them her way. She told her how Drack would heft her onto his shoulders and run around the clearing and how Vetra would let her climb her and how Cora would demonstrate her biotics by lifting her into the air.

 

Peebee and Sara both had a lot of questions for Imelda about the remnant tech- Jaal had told them what he'd seen. Imelda only told them that they found dormant machines they couldn't wake, so they disassembled them and used the materials since it was strong and plentiful. Sara offered to take Imelda on a brief trip in the Tempest, but Imelda was quick to decline, insisting that she'd prefer her feet on the ground.

 

Jaal knew the two girls were itching to follow Imelda to the village, but he and Imelda and the Moshae all agreed that the rest of the villagers weren't quite ready to meet the aliens yet. They did, however, make plans for the Moshae to accompany them back to the village that evening and while Imelda was speaking to Sara and Peebee, Jaal and the Moshae spoke yet again.

 

It was the same argument they'd had twice before now. It seemed that the more Jaal pushed for the Moshae to be honest with Imelda, the more the Moshae was determined to keep the information from them, citing that Imelda had just barely begun to trust them. Jaal would always counter with not telling them now, but telling them in the future, which the Moshae responded to by asking why they should bother putting it off. They'd go around and around in circles and finally it ended much the same as it had the previous night, with Jaal stalking off, his arms crossed over his chest. He stops only to scoop Hahve up before he continues on to his bunk, refusing to answer the messages the Moshae sends to his omni-tool until tomorrow comes.

 

Despite the rough patch the two of them are going through, Jaal knows that her heart is in the right place. That she still loves him, that this single issue will not be the end of the friendship they'd held for so long. That, however, does not stop him from sulking in his bunk. It is, after all, not about him right now.

* * *

They will have the argument several times. Each time, neither of them will budge and Jaal will get frustrated. Occasionally, the Moshae will excuse herself from the argument, the rift between them growing wider and wider. Jaal stays in a state of frustration, anxiety and guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He knows their relationship will survive, but that doesn't mean he likes it when it's strained. Hahve takes it upon herself to try to cheer them both up- it works tremendously. It is difficult to be angry when the girl is being silly and looking at them for approval.

 

They are, once more, embroiled in the same argument. It is raining again, like the day when Jaal met Hahve. Imelda is somewhere on the Pathfinder's ship, with Jaal and the Moshae sitting in the common area of her ship.

 

“I do not see why you want to lie to them, Moshae!” Jaal says, hating the way pleading crept into his voice.

 

“It isn't lying, Jaal!” the Moshae protests, arms crossing over her chest as she leans backwards in her chair.

 

“Lying by omission is still lying! Imelda deserves to know. It is her decision what her people know,” he retorts, hunching his shoulders as he glares at the table.

 

“I'm not going to tell her!” the Moshae fires back.

 

“You're not going to tell me what?” Imelda asks, making the both of them jump. The door she'd just walked through slides shut behind her and Imelda stares at them with her arms crossed over her chest. For once, the Moshae looks just as guilty and chastised as Jaal does. If it weren't for the fact that he'd been caught red handed, he'd have been smug about it.

 

“Well, I suppose the cat is out of the bag now,” the Moshae sighs, dragging a hand down her face. Jaal smiles at the human expression- it would seem he wasn't the only one picking up phrases from spending time with the _Tempest's_ crew.

 

“Whatever a cat is, it better be!” Imelda scolds, making Jaal smile.

 

“It....will be a long and difficult conversation,” she answers wearily.

 

“One I will be delighted to have with you,” she replies, sitting next to Jaal. The Moshae turns her attention to him.

 

“I'll tell her everything as best as I can. Go find Sara and send her in, her input will be valuable. And then go spend time with Hahve. Keep her from eavesdropping. If she's half the trouble you were, we'll need it,” she tells him, looking at him fondly.

 

“Of course, Moshae,” he rumbles, standing up to leave. He stoops down to hug her before he goes, burying his face in the crook of her neck. It was less awkward when he was a child, far easier for him to reach. The Moshae pats his back and he doesn't have to look at her to know she's smiling, the rift between them as good as healed.

 

As Jaal leaves the ship to find Sara and Hahve, he finds that his steps are lighter than they have been in days. It is good to not be fighting with the Moshae any longer.

* * *

It takes days for the Moshae and Imelda to work out a plan. Jaal isn't included in their planning very often, sent to play with Hahve or learn more about the village. He feels like a child that the Moshae is sending out to keep him from getting underfoot, but the feeling doesn't come with the same bitterness it did when he was younger. Now, there is just a quiet fondness settled into his chest as Hahve shows him her favorite things.

 

Eventually, the plan is revealed to him. It will be a slow-acting one. Other angara from Aya will visit the planet- Jaal can already hear Evfra complaining about having to play ambassador- and eventually some of them will travel to Aya themselves. But that will come later.

 

Now, Imelda and the Moshae stand on the bridge of the _Tempest_ with Sara. Jaal is in the Pathfinder's quarters, snuggled up in the bed with Hahve in his lap, both of them eagerly facing the windows. Kallo's voice crackles over the comms, easy and familiar, and within moments the _Tempest_ is lifting off.

 

Integrating this new society will be a long and, at times, difficult road to walk. But for now, Jaal holds Hahve in his lap and shows her the stars.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i saw the art and the prompt posted and immediately knew this was a story i had to tell. make sure you give the art the love it deserves! also a big thanks to [jeannedarcprice](https://jeannedarcprice.tumblr.com/), not only for the beautiful art and the great prompt, but also for beta reading the fic. it would be much, much rougher without it.


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